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A deep, rumbling purr came from the back of his throat whenever he was comfortable and content. Whenever he'd had a good meal, he would dab at his lips with a handkerchief and purr. Whenever Anton was over, he would nuzzle him, and Anton would hear that sound thrumming in his ear. If he heard that sound, soft and understated, he knew he was happy.
"My puppy," Viago would say, his arms around Anton's neck as he nuzzled, scented, marked him. Doted upon him. Showed him how happy he'd made him. Nothing made Viago purr louder than Anton did.
Nothing.
He would be in his lap, taller than Anton, but thinner, his muscle less dense, more lithe and delicate, and he would be pressing his cheek against his neck, running his nose along the length of his jaw, his lips grazing the shell of his ear. Anton's hands would be on his hips, steadying him as he straddled his hips on the bed, his lids heavy and lowered as he let that sound resonate down to his soul and bones.
Hearing Viago purr was unlike anything else Anton was familiar with. It was a sound Viago made absently, maybe not even aware most times that he was doing it. But with Anton, it was conscious. Orchestrated. Intentional. He wanted nothing more than to hear this sound and only this sound. It was lulling, and it was comforting, and it was endlessly arousing.
Anton stroked at the small of Viago's back as Viago continued to brush his lips against Anton's rough, heated skin. Anton was never sure what to say, so he was silent, and he let Viago rub against him as he pleased. Sometimes Viago would let out heavy sighs, his purring suddenly much deeper, and Anton would shudder. Sometimes Viago would bare his fangs, and those would graze along his neck, and Anton would dip his head back and let out a heavy sigh of his own. He would swallow as they caught along the knob in his throat, and Viago would offer a pleased hum.
"My puppy smells so good," Viago murmured, and his hands began to cling to Anton's bare chest, and began massaging it. Kneading it. His claws felt so good against Anton's skin. Sharp, well manicured, digging into his flesh. Viago began purring louder.
"My puppy is so warm." He pressed a kiss to Anton's throat. Anton's head was tipped all the way back, and he let out a slight groan as he felt Viago's fangs pressing against what Anton was bearing. Viago never bit down, not on his throat, but he was tempted. He would tease, he would threaten. Viago knew better than to sink his teeth in, to break the skin, and Anton knew better than to ask for it.
Viago knew better. Anton knew better. He told himself this as he felt those fangs, as he eyed them between Viago's lips.
He knew better.
"Your heart is racing," Viago moaned out, pressing small kisses along his neck. "So good for me. My good boy."
Anton whimpered.
"My puppy deserves a reward," Viago continued, and he pressed a brief kiss to Anton's lips. Anton chased him when he pulled away, wanting more, wanting something deeper, but Viago looked at him with lidded eyes and blown pupils as he climbed off Anton's lap, and settled between his legs. He was settled on the bed, head near his groin, looking up at him, and his expression was one of immense arousal and adoration. Anton was painfully erect, and he ached terribly.
Viago slowly unbuttoned his pants, and Anton was gripping the headboard with measured strength so as not to shatter it into a thousand splinters. When Viago had pulled Anton's member out, it was hard, long, thick, dark and engorged with blood, and Viago's gaze became so much more unfocused as he stared at it, smelled it, inhaled Anton's musk and the intoxicating aroma of his blood. Viago drooled a bit, and Anton could see his fangs. Anton spread his legs, and his cock throbbed.
He knew better.
Viago licked a stripe along the underside of his erection, and his tongue was so warm, so wet, and Anton shuddered. Anton felt his eyes wanting to roll into the back of his skull from how incredible Viago's tongue always felt against his cock. The anticipation Viago presented through his teasing and his torment was agonizing, and that tongue pressing against the underside of his cock, pleasuring him, was a great payoff for what Viago had him endure. Viago licked a few more times, let his tongue hang down as it dribbled saliva on his erection, and he seized it in his hand and began offering a few light strokes. He batted his eyed at Anton, and he gave him the sweetest look, eyes the color of honey.
"Such a good boy for me," he continued, and Anton had to screw his eyes shut as his breathing picked up. "Such a good puppy. Good doggy. Letting me play with you like this, letting me touch you here. You are so cute, Anton, I cannot wait to have you inside me. Do you want to be inside your owner, puppy?"
"Fuck," Anton swore under his breath, and he tossed his head back against the headboard. He was becoming so flushed, and he could tell Viago was getting hungry. "Yes, so bad," he answered as though he were in pain. He was.
Anton didn't know how to play the game. Viago spoke to him in this way, praised him as though he were a dog, and he knew Anton loved it more than anything else. It was so easy for Anton to be fully aroused just from a few utterances of that pet name, but he didn't ask for anything in response. Viago called himself his owner, but he never asked for Anton to exhibit any sort of particular behavior. It seemed to be a role he enjoyed for himself, for his own fulfillment, and he enjoyed Anton simply behaving as himself. If Anton called him master, or owner, and that was his own decision, he was sure Viago would enjoy it. But maybe, Viago simply liked the power, and knowing Anton submitted fully and completely was enough for him.
Viago hummed at him, and his wrist assumed a lazy pace as he looked at his erection, eyeing it with that ravenous, hungered expression, looking like a man who hadn't eaten in weeks seeing a hearty meal before him. A bit more drool seeped from the corner of his mouth, and Anton shuddered again. He wanted to be inside of Viago. He wanted–
"You smell so good," Viago said, pressing his nose to the underside of Anton's cock, and Anton let out a small noise. He could hear Viago taking in deep wafts, and when Viago pulled away, his gaze was lustful. "Your scent makes me feel so sanguine, so–drunk. Your musk–"
"Yeah?" Anton said, hopeful, encouraging.
Viago leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the engorged member, his lips so warm, so plush. He looked up at Anton, and his pupils completely absorbed his irises, and his eyes were glassy and unfocused, and his lids were dark and he looked like a seductive, terrifying predator. "The smell of your blood drives me wild, Anton."
"Yeah," Anton gasped out. Anton's cock twitched, and Anton shifted in place, anxious and desperate.
"There is so much of your blood here," Viago continued, and Anton had to toss his head against the headboard again as he let out a desperate cry. "So much of it goes towards your penis. It changes the color of it. You're normally quite pink, yes, from your warm, red blood coursing through your veins. But here–you are so dark. A lovely dark pink. I can feel it pulsing, it throbs greater than your wrists, or your neck. Your body devotes so much energy to your arousal, and what you need, what makes you alive, is so concentrated here."
Anton was staring at the ceiling, silently pleading, but to whom and for what, he was uncertain.
And then, there it was.
"I bet your blood tastes especially good here, Anton," he heard Viago say, and Anton didn't hide his loud cry of pleasure. He looked back down, knowing how desperate and filled with painful need his expression bore, but Viago only smiled, slight, subtle, barely enough to show his teeth.
Viago lifted his head a bit so that he was positioned above Anton's erection, and Anton's entire body was overtaken by tremors, as though he were spasming from some condition. Viago kept his gaze captured with his eyes, and his smile was one of malicious intent disguised as kindness. Viago opened his mouth above his cock, wide, letting his tongue hang out once more to dribble further onto Anton, pulling his lips back to properly expose his sharp, pearly fangs. Anton's hands gripped the headboard behind him so tightly he felt the thick wood cracking again.
He knew better.
"You don't know what you do to me, Anton," Viago said. "You don't know how hungry you make me."
He knew better.
"Viago, please," Anton choked out. Viago hummed a small laugh.
He knew better.
"Such a cute little puppy, begging for his owner to hurt him."
Viago lifted his other hand to brush some of his curls behind his ear so as not to get in his face. He leaned down, keeping his eyes locked on Anton's, and Anton's cock was slowly, oh so slowly enveloped in that wet warmth that was all too familiar to him. He let out the biggest moan yet, and his eyelids fluttered. Viago's mouth felt incredible. His tongue, his cheeks–his teeth, all of it. It was so warm. It was so wet. And when Viago would hum in approval, and when the stilled hand at the base of his cock keeping his erection in place would squeeze very lightly as Viago lifted his head up, and then down, pulling Anton's cock in and out of his mouth, humming like it were a tasty treat, purring like a goddamn cat–
And when Anton would press against the back of his throat, and Viago would just hold him there, purring, looking up at Anton with such affection in his eyes. And when Viago would pull his cock out and smile at him and tease him for enjoying this. And when Viago would open up his throat and let Anton fuck himself into it, all while purring, all while staring at Anton with those eyes, with those nails digging into his thighs and stomach, maybe caressing his balls, maybe dipping lower between his cheeks–
But Viago did none of that this time. Viago held him in place, and he moved his head at quite a leisurely pace, but he stared at Anton, kept his gaze. He bobbed his head slowly and languidly a few times, for a few moments, before he peeled his lips back, and he began grazing his teeth along the skin of Anton's cock, and Anton sobbed so horribly.
"Viago, please!"
Viago chuckled, but he continued to take his own pace. He bobbed his head more, and he scraped his teeth along Anton's length, and Anton's heart was racing. More blood was coursing through his body. He was shaking, his cock was throbbing, he was in so much pain.
And he needed Viago to sink his teeth in.
He knew better, and he didn't care, he needed Viago to bite him. To feed from him, to pierced his cock with his teeth, to drink his blood. He needed it there, right on the side of his cock, while it was inside his mouth.
He needed it.
Viago found a prominent vein in his erection that he had been thumbing with interest earlier, and he stopped moving his head. He pressed a lower canine against it, staring at Anton, making him anxious, keeping him waiting. And he sunk his tooth in, and he pierced Anton's dick, and blood began seeping from the wound and onto Viago's tongue, and Anton was crying. Anton sobbed so loud, and his chest heaved with his great sobs. He sounded as though he had been dismembered. The pain may have been as great, but the pleasure from Viago biting him, Viago feeding from him, was far greater.
Anton had his legs spread so wide for Viago, and he laid there, his chest glistening and flushed, his belly flexing, legs quivering, knuckles turned white and damaging the headboard. His face was bright red, his eyebrows screwed upwards in pleasure, eyes shut as a single tear slipped down his cheeks. His mouth was wide open as he struggled to breathe, and as his sobs began to resemble something more akin to pleasure, than pain and sadness.
Viago had pierced his vein, and he expertly twisted his tooth a bit to keep the wound open, letting the blood seep into his mouth. He felt Viago's tongue lapping it up, like a cat excited for milk, and he felt Viago swallowing the blood from around his dick. The licking, the swallowing, the tooth in his erection. Feeling the blood seep from the wound, hearing Viago's pleased hums. Viago sat like this for several minutes, keeping the wound open, not letting Anton heal around it so that he could have his meal.
Anton was feeding him. Anton was providing for him. Viago was able to feed, able to quell his hunger, because of what Anton was offering him. And Viago was taking it, was taking it from Anton, and Viago would be sated and satisfied and full from what Anton was giving him. Anton's blood.
From his penis.
Naturally, Viago would never drink so much that Anton became sick, and in reality, not much blood was drawn from the wound applied to his erection given that vein wasn't a major artery. With Viago controlling the pace of what he had been drinking, and with Anton able to heal himself, Anton was never in any particular danger as a result of the taboo dance the two took part in. Anton was never in any danger.
But the thought of it. The idea that he could have been. The fact that Viago, knowing Anton was safe, was still in complete control of how much he drank, and how quickly. That Viago could have very easily opened the wound more, maybe pierced more holes in, put in an effort to actually exsanguinate Anton in his entirety, and that Anton trusted him not to–
He was in complete control.
When Viago was finished, he pulled away, and licked at his bright red lips. He had finished his meal. Anton was in misery. Anton was in love.
Viago thumbed at the healing wound, and he let out a pleased hum. "You are such a good boy for me, Anton. How about I give you a reward for being so good for your owner?"
Anton sobbed, and nodded his head with so much fervor. He was at his limit. He heard Viago humming a soft laugh again.
"Good boy. Does my puppy want to cum? Does he want to cum inside his owner?"
He should have said no. He shouldn't have wanted this. He shouldn't have asked for it, he should have–
"Please, Viago–"
He should have known better.